


What's Up Buttercup

by Agapostemon



Series: Cardboard Castles [14]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Menstruation, Platonic Cuddling, Trans Boy Hunk, Trans Girl Pidge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-07
Updated: 2017-03-07
Packaged: 2018-09-30 07:00:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10156847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Agapostemon/pseuds/Agapostemon
Summary: “I’m bleeding and I need somebody to hold me!” Hunk whimpers, “I miss Lance.”Pidge squints, gears grinding together in her head as she tries to figure out what bleeding, being held and Lance could possibly have to do with each other. Especially since she sees absolutely no signs of blood anywhere on Hunk’s person…Oh.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Content Warnings: This entire thing is about menstrual cramps so... consider yourself warned
> 
> This is just a cute fluffy thing that takes place a week or two after [False Start](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9884657/chapters/22165712) (aka right after Lance moves out of Hunk and Pidge's apartment).
> 
> My brain informed me this morning that Hunk is trans in this AU, so have some cute trans roommates being cute.
> 
> Character Ages for Reference:  
> Hunk -21  
> Pidge - 19

Pidge nearly jumps out of her skin when Hunk throws open her bedroom door with a melodramatic moan. “Piiidge, hold me! I’m suffering!” he whines as he flops face down beside her on her bed.

“Haven’t you ever heard of knocking?” asks Pidge, trying unsuccessfully to push her much larger friend off her bed. They might both fit on a twin-sized bed while sleeping, but Pidge isn’t sleeping. She’s sitting cross-legged and trying to code on her laptop. With a resigned groan, she shifts her position and sets her laptop on Hunk’s back so she can continue what she was working on.

“Knocking has like a 50% success rate,” Hunk responds sulkily, still face-down in Pidge’s alien-print comforter, “Barging in has a 100% success rate.” He doesn’t seem particularly bothered by the laptop on his back, so Pidge decides he must not be suffering too badly.

“It doesn’t if I lock the door,” she retorts.

Hunk just groans pathetically into the bed.

Pidge sighs. “Okay, just tell me how you’re suffering, but make it quick,” she says magnanimously, rolling her eyes.

“I’m bleeding and I need somebody to hold me!” he whimpers, “I miss Lance.”

Pidge squints, gears grinding together in her head as she tries to figure out what bleeding, being held and Lance could possibly have to do with each other. Especially since she sees absolutely no signs of blood anywhere on Hunk’s person…

Oh.

Wait.

Oh no.

Heck.

“Oh, you mean _that_ kind of bleeding,” she says, eyes wide with realization.

Hunk just moans in response.

Suddenly everything makes sense. Now that they were no longer living with Lance, Hunk could no longer go to him for cuddles whenever his uterus did its… uterus thing.

Unfortunately, Pidge is next in line. And comforting isn’t exactly one of her strong points.

“Do you… need me to get you anything?” she asks, reaching out to awkwardly pat his back.

“It hurts,” Hunk whimpers. If he were texting, Pidge is certain he would have punctuated the statement with a frowny face: =(

“That’s… not really an answer,” Pidge says. Then she realizes that may have come out a little harsh, so she adds, “But that’s okay, I’ll figure it out. I have the Internet right here at my fingertips. What have you tried already?”

“I took ibuprofen,” he says forlornly. Or at least, she thinks that’s what he said. It sure is hard to understand when he’s talking directly into the bed.

“Hmm, that’s a start,” she says, then types ‘menstrual cramp remedies’ into her search bar. After a moment of reading, she looks back down at Hunk, “Do you have a heating pad or something?”

“Yeah, there’s a microwave heat pack thingy on my bed,” Hunk says, “It’s full of rice. Just microwave it for a couple minutes.”

“Okay, be right back,” Pidge says as she extracts herself from the bed, biting back the urge to say ‘and you didn’t think to bring that along?’

She lets herself into Hunk’s open room and digs through his covers to find the heat pack in question. It looks homemade and has little smiley-face suns all over it. Lance probably sewed it for him. Pidge can’t help but smile.

After microwaving the heat pack as instructed, she returns to her room and plops the heat pack on Hunk’s lower back before crawling back into bed.

“Ow! Ooh! Ah! Too hot, too hot!” Hunk yelps a few seconds after the hot rice pack touches him.

Oops.

Pidge plucks it off and scowls. This is difficult. She’s suddenly kind of glad her body doesn’t do this.

“Can I have some cuddles while it cools down?” Hunk asks piteously.

Pidge sighs, closing her laptop and moving it off the bed. She’s clearly not getting any more work done, tonight, so she might as well enjoy the company. She drapes herself over her friend’s body, resting her head between his shoulder blades and using one hand to rub soothing circles in his lower back.

This is nice. Not exactly what she was planning on doing with her evening, but it’s nice. Hunk is warm and soft and smells slightly floral. Even when he’s not feeling well (which is… often), there’s something soothing about his presence.

A couple minutes later, Hunk mumbles, “It’s probably ready now.”

Pidge helps him situate the heat pack between his lower abdomen and the bed, then goes back to rubbing his back.

It’s not long before they’re both sound asleep, Pidge still draped over Hunk’s back in an awkward half-sitting position.

(By morning, Pidge’s back hurts worse than Hunk’s. Not that she’d ever admit it.)

**Author's Note:**

> If you wanna come say hi, I'm [Agapostemon](https://agapostemon.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr!
> 
> Also: Please remember that I write purely for fun and catharsis. My fics are unbeta’d and minimally proofread. They’re not perfect, and that’s okay. If you notice something I could fix or improve, please keep those thoughts to yourself. If I genuinely want critique, I’ll ask a close friend in private. **Surprise critiques are very stressful and discouraging.** Thanks for understanding!


End file.
